


Why Did You Go Away?

by promiscuousfangirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promiscuousfangirl/pseuds/promiscuousfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was left sitting on the ground thinking about that kiss and how many times I had done the same thing to him in the safety of our apartment. Or how many times he'd done the same thing to me when I'd go on a rant about how I deserved to be in the Army as much as he did and other injustices in our world. He would kiss me and say, "You can't fix everything, though God knows you try."<br/>I missed those rude interruptions. </p>
<p>        It wasn't our first - far from it - but I had no idea it was going to be our last kiss. I would've pulled him back in; I would've made him stay if I had known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Did You Go Away?

Do you know what sucks? Not being able to get drunk.  
But do you know what is much worse? Watching your best friend, the person you love most, die while you can't do anything but watch. I've never felt so helpless.  
I remember just a few weeks ago, we sat in this very spot talking about going back into the battles, back into war.  
He had been tortured and experimented on. I got him out, but then that night weeks back I - stupidly - asked him if he was willing to follow me back in. He gave me a drunken smile with sad, sober eyes saying he'd follow me anywhere - the real me that only he knows. The conversation from there on was light-hearted with only victory and homecomings on our mind to vivify us to complete our mission as soon as possible.  
But that's why you don't talk about things before they happen: they rarely ever turn out like the way you plan them in your head.  
That night is the night I signed up to lose the most important person in my life. That night is the night that I signed my best friend's death warrant.  
_________________________________________  
Before he left, before I joined the Army, we'd lived together - of course we would. We were two struggling orphans in Brooklyn during the Depression. We split the rent, the utilities, everything. Sometimes - a lot of the times, actually - we'd share the bed.  
It was a small one bedroom apartment and often we'd switch out who slept on the bed, but sometimes we'd share it. He worked a lot harder than I would because he didn't - and wouldn't - get sick as often as I did. He simply could handle more. Also, I liked to pick fights, so more often than not, one of us would be incredibly too sore to sleep on the floor. Wordlessly, the other - me or him - would climb into the bed underneath the one threadbare blanket.  
The night he got back from basic training was July 9th. I met him at the train station, and it was raining. He saw me and that goofy smile only he could manage to pull off lit his features as the rain caught in his eyelashes and pattered on his shirt.  
"I should've known I was going to have a welcome back party. It's nice to see you, Rogers." He ruffled my hair, and I hailed us a taxi.  
"Don't hate me forever, but the real party is actually tomorrow," I said as we climbed in.  
He laughed, "I could never hate you. And that's fine with me. All I want to do right now is sleep." He closed his eyes and his long top lashes settled on his cheekbones while the rain that had caught there swept down his cheeks. He rested his head against the seat. The orange glow of the streetlights shown through the rain-splattered windows of the cab, and too soon we pulled up to the apartment.  
He got his bags out of the trunk as I hurried to the door to unlock it. As soon as we got in, he turned to me, "You don't mind if I get the bed tonight, do you? Those cots are murder after all of that training you do. I wanna savor the 'soft' bed while I'm still here."  
We both knew that the bed wasn't actually soft by any standards, but he did that stupid smile that could get him away with murder. However, I involuntarily flinched at the reminder that he'd be leaving and I couldn't follow him.  
"Sure, Buck, just don't expect to get it every night. Just because you're in the Army now, doesn't mean I'll give you special treatment. You're not gone yet."  
"I wouldn't expect anything less." He laughed, shook his head, and retreated to the one bedroom.  
Five minutes later, I followed in and set out my spot on the floor. "Buck?" I crawled in.  
"Yeah?" He said after turning out the lights.  
"I'm glad you're back... even if it's only for a short time. It gets weird around here without you." By weird I meant lonely.  
"Steve?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Go to sleep," I heard that smile in his voice.  
I turned over and closed my eyes...  
....  
"Steve?" I heard him whisper. "Steve."  
"What time is it?"  
"1:58 a.m. You've been asleep for about thirty minutes."  
"And how long have you been asleep?"  
He didn't answer me. Instead he said my name again, "Steve?" It almost sounded desperate.  
"Yes, Bucky?"  
"Can you... uh... can you come here?" Never had either of us requested the other to come to bed - to sleep - in the same bed as the other.  
"Um. Sure," I got up and climbed in with him. "Bucky, is everything okay?" I took his hand and he entwined our fingers.  
He blinked sleepily. "Turn around." He let go of my hand, and I did as he asked. He pulled me in closer - my back was against his chest, and I could feel his chest move up and down deeper and slower with each breath. He wrapped his arm around me and laced his fingers once again with mine. He nestled his face into my shoulder and then moved it up. "I'm just savoring the good stuff while I can," I felt him smile as he whispered into my ear. He kissed lightly beneath my ear, and he was asleep not five minutes later. I smiled and fell asleep as well.  
____________________________________________  
I filled my beer up and drank it. I did this two more times.  
____________________________________________  
The night he left, we went to the Stark Industries Expo. Bucky got us both dates, but, to be quite honest, I didn't want to celebrate.  
My best friend was leaving to go fight in a war that he might not come back from. I couldn't go. Not with him. Not at all. Ever since we were kids, we'd followed each other everywhere. I had been turned down five times, and I couldn't follow him this time.  
How could I watch his back with an ocean between us? How could he watch mine?  
I get why he wanted to party. It was his last night in the States for a while - maybe even forever. As much as we talked about him returning and what we'd do when he got back, we both knew that not coming home was as much a possibility as coming home.  
He wanted to dance. I wanted to fight. I wanted to enlist. I didn't want to watch him dance. I didn't want to act like this wasn't happening, because it was. I didn't want to celebrate or dance with some random, but beautiful, girl that would probably not enjoy herself because she was too afraid of stepping on me. These girls were Bucky's type, not mine. I wanted to wait for the right partner, so I knew he'd be fine if I left him with the two girls. I knew he wouldn't cease to be the life of the party if I left him, so I let them have their fun.  
....  
We said our goodbyes outside of the Army sign-up tent, but that night the possibility of me following him, of fighting beside him, of fighting for my country, of fighting for freedom became a reality.  
I was allowed to join the Army by the Grace of God and Dr. Abraham Erskine.  
Bucky didn't come home that night. The apartment got weird again, so I put on his shirt that was about two to three sizes too big, and it was almost like he hadn't gone away.  
Almost.  
____________________________________________  
I hate crying. Hate it. But that didn't seem to make the tears stop. He died. He died on my watch. The tears mixed with my beer which did nothing for the taste. This is what desperation tastes like, I thought. Bitterness and horse piss.  
____________________________________________  
When Colonel Phillips said that Bucky was declared "killed in action", I didn't believe it for a second. Then he said that nothing was to be done about all of the missing soldiers and possibly Bucky, I was close to losing it. These men have given their lives for an army officer who isn't going to do shit for them. He won't even risk a rescue mission.  
So I went on my own rescue mission with the help of Howard Stark and Peggy, beautiful Peggy. They got a plane and flew it as close as they could to the plant.  
When I found Bucky, I nearly cried from relief until I saw how much pain was in. He couldn't even stand up straight.  
I was livid.  
....  
Not soon after I asked him to join me in taking down Hydra, the organization that captured them and experimented on him.  
With that same goofy expression from the apartment in Brooklyn, he agreed. We thought we were going to all make it home. I bought the guys another round.  
____________________________________________  
A gust of wind whistled through the shell of the bar that was ravaged by Nazis. I shivered and downed another beer. It's horse shit, I thought. Of all the things that could've gone wrong with that mission, why did it have to happen to him of all people?  
____________________________________________  
The night before our operation that ended in the loss of his life, he and I were inside my tent.  
"Come on, Steve!" He laughed as I shook my head.  
"I'm not going to arm wrestle you, Buck. You'd lose and be all sulled up. What would I do without the cocky-Barnes we all know and love?"  
"You talk big, Rogers. Can you back it up?" He punched my arm playfully.  
I groaned then laughed. "You know I can. I thought I was the one who always picked the fights anyhow?"  
"It's weird how the tables are turned now, huh, Rogers? Now you can actually win those fights."  
"Which is the exact reason I'm not going to arm wrestle you. I can kick your ass now." I felt something hit me from the side and realized it was Bucky trying to tackle me, so I feigned falling down. I fell to the ground, and Bucky had me pinned. His eyes narrowed as a devilish smiled danced across his lips - a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes anymore since coming back from the Hydra facility. I flipped him over to where I had him pinned this time.  
"I'm not going to fight you, Barnes... I can't have your ego wounded before our most important missi-" I was cut off by soft lips pressed against mine. So much passion and force was put into it that it didn't register with me to kiss back until the last few seconds of the kiss. Our mouths pushed open and his hands wrapped around my waist and pressed my body into his. I brought my hand through his hair and curled it into my fist and kissed him as passionately as he kissed me.  
He broke off and we released our grips on each other. His head was moved back only an inch. I opened my eyes to study his features, and his eyes were closed as he whispered, "I'm not going to fight you, Steve. Captain's orders," he smiled and pecked my lips. He opened his eyes and slid out from under me.  
He stood and started to exit before turning back to me. "I'll see you in the morning," a sad half smile ghosted across his face, and he exited.  
I was left sitting on the ground thinking about that kiss and how many times I had done the same thing to him in the safety of our apartment. Or how many times he'd done the same thing to me when I'd go on a rant about how I deserved to be in the Army as much as he did and other injustices in our world. He would kiss me and say, "You can't fix everything, though God knows you try."  
I missed those rude interruptions.  
____________________________________________  
It wasn't our first - far from it - but I had no idea it was going to be our last kiss. I would've pulled him back in; I would've made him stay if I had known.  
Here I was, like I was back in July when he went away the first time. Crying. Feeling everything. Wearing that same white shirt that was once too big and now is a little too small, underneath my uniform. This time he went away and there was no more returning. No ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment rescue mission. This time he really was "killed in action". A sob escaped my otherwise pursed lips.  
I'm so sorry, James. I'm so, so sorry, Buck. I'm so god damned sorry. Why couldn't I save you? Why did you go away?

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely off "Last Kiss" by Taylor Swift. I recommend listening to it either before or after reading :). Please do not dismiss this story because it's based off a Taylor Swift song.


End file.
